The black swan (47 page)

Dulcie took the folded note. She read the firm, bold writing. "Dear lady of uncommon beauty, will you grant this admirer one moment?"

"Who gave this to you?" Dulcie spoke severely, but her eyes danced, betraying her excitement. Oh! What a coup if there really were a handsome man she could be seen with —^by Adam and Ruth Ann.

"A man." Innocently Miranda shrugged her shoulders. "What shall I tell him? Are you going to meet him?"

"Certainly not! One must be properly Intro—'* But Miranda had already scampered out of the box. Dulcie leaped from her seat and pulled the curtain back, looking down the corridor both ways. There was no sign of Miranda or a handsome stranger. She returned to her seat feeling terribly sorry for herself, but the excitement lingered.

Miranda reappeared five minutes later. DuJcie snatched the note before Miranda could say a word. "Don't you leave here untU I tell you you may." She scowled, then read the note. "Is one moment so much to ask of you, most beautiful lady, when you will be safeguarded by the innocent chaperonage of Miranda?"

"Where is he?" Dulcie asked. She patted her hair and smoothed the front of her gown. Perhaps if the man turned out to be presentable, she could tell Uncle Oliver that he was an old friend she had asked to join them. At least then she would not be sitting unescorted, and she would only have to suffer his company for one night.

"I'll show you, Dulcie." Miranda took her hand, pulling Dulcie into the box next to theirs.

He said, "I knew you'd never be able to resist an admirer."

"OhI You conceited beasti" she exclaimed as Adam, grinning, swept into a low bow, then put out his hands for her to take. He laughed aloud as she, unladylike, placed both fisted hands on her hips and tried to thhik of something suflBciently cutting to say to him. "Is it your habit to collect unsuspectin' young women as trophies. Captain Tremain? Isn't one per evenin' sufficient for you?"

She was magnificent, he thought. Dulcie, all fire and beauty. Heedless of her anger, he came toward her. "I see only one trophy worthy of collection hete toni^t"

"Murderous flattery!"

*Truth." His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

"Truth?" she cried shrilly. "Have you kissed the Blarney Stone, Captain Tremain, or did you manage to swallow it whole?"

Her anger was disproportionate and incongruous matched against his amused, soft-spoken pleasure in her. He took her hand, his eyes barely concealing laughter. She tried to free herself, winding up to give him another tongue lashing.

"Ssshhh." He placed his fingers on her lips. "The house-lights have dimmed. They'll be coming back. You don't want them to think—"

"Think what!? If you say one more—'*

"Shh. Remember you granted me one moment. I've still not had it."

"You misled me. I would never have come if I'd known it was you!"

"Exactly why I did not sign my name. But you did come. And you promised by your coming that I could have a moment with you. I should have stated that it was to be a quiet moment."

"Are you finished now?'*

"No. I want to apologize for our last meeting."

Dulcie's eyes widened. "This is an apology? Well, I am honored! Please spare me the next one! Now, may I please return to my seat?"

"Then, you won't listen to me?"

"There is nothin' you could possibly say that I might be interested in. Captain Tremain." She instantly regretted that, for his eyes darkened. He glared at her, making no move to escort her back to her box.

At dinner Oliver jovially arranged everyone's seating, talking as he went. Adam was placed between Dulcie and Ruth Ann Sizemore.

"Why, Captain Tremain," Dulcie said with eyes too bright. "This must be our lucky day. We seem destined to enjoy one another's company again."

Without smiling, Adam looked directly at her, his eyes challenging her, staring so hard she became uncomfortable. "Destiny seems to have taken us farther than you realize," he said. "Your Uncle and Mr. Courtland have seen fit to arrange your passage home on my ship. Miss Moran."

Dulcie looked toward Oliver. "Uncle, you arranged for me to travel on Captain Tremain's ship? But you said nothin' to me!" She added desperately, "We shouldn't impose on him like that. I can't possibly be ready to leave .. • I appreciate it, but I really think— "

"Nonsense, dear Dulcie. You have three days. Adam has assured me it is his pleasure to see you home."

She swiveled to look at Adam's noncommittal face. "Uncle Oliver, I'd—"

Oliver, already full of good cheer, raised his glass high.

*To your homeward voyage. May it be both pleasant and safe."

Dulcie let out a deep breath. Would this evening never end? She sat quietly as Oliver expounded on Adam's sterling qualities as a gentleman and a captain. "Dulcie, my dear niece, you'll be as safe as a caterpillar in a cocoon. Count your blessings."

"And," Mad added dramatically, "Captain Tremain has vowed on his honor to deliver you personally into the arms of your father."

"Thank you. Captain. You are too kind."

"Not at all," he replied silkily. "I failed to convey my good intentions to you earlier this evening. Perhaps my actions will speak more clearly than my words."

"Your actions have always been perfectly clear, Captain Tremain," she said in a low voice. "It has been mine that have caused the misunderstandin's. I assure you I shall stay out of your way on the voyage home. You'll have no cause from me to regret your generosity."

There was no fight in her words now. He liked that less than he could fathom. He was tempted to say or do something outrageous just to rekindle the fire in her eyes.

It was a strange leavetaking compared to her arrival in bustling New York harbor. Beau had sent a telegram informing Adam that he should meet the Ullah on the north shore of Long Island, for he could not risk taking the Ullah into the port of New York without being arrested as a Southern agent. The development lent an aura of intrigue.

Oliver voiced his misgivings as Rod's coach jolted over the rutted country roads. "By Jove, Courtland, you never said Tremain ran a hidey-hole operation. Why can't he leave New York like any decent law-abiding person?"

Rod rested his head comfortably against the seat, knowing Oliver was mostly bluster. "What do you expect, Oliver? We're at war. Your niece and Adam are Southerners. He can't come in and out of the North at will If they knew who he was, they'd clap him into prison for a spy."

Oliver grunted. "Mucky thing, this war. Think Pulcie*s safe with him?"

"She's safer with him than anyone else. I told you he's a business partner. Have you ever known me to consort with any but the best?"

When Oliver finally spoke, his voice was no longer wor-

ried. "Can't say I have. You're always first-rate, Court-land."

Dulcie looked out of the window into the night. She could see nothing. The coach plunged blindly into the thick wetness of a murky-dark rain. The trip was endless. She had talked with no one, not even Claudine, who huddled, shaking in one comer.

When they finally arrived at a desolate sandy beach, both she and Claudine were tense and tired. Oliver climbed into the jolly boat with them. A seaman rowed with long strokes over the chopping sea. Adam stood on the Ullah's deck, covered by a heavy dark slicker. He had never looked more forbidding to her.

Oliver bade her good-bye. Dulcie clung to him. After the long, slow hours in the coach their parting seemed so sudden and final. The trip seemed so dangerous, the meeting with her father so inmiinent.

Dulcie, Adam, and Claudine stood watching as Oliver was rowed ashore. "Oh, Lawd, am Ah glad yo' heah, Cap'n!" Claudine shivered as Oliver's form disappeared into the murk. "Dis boat ain't gwine warsh away in all dis rain, is it?"

Adam's arm slipped around her comfortably. "Not the Ullah. She'll bobble right along, a cork in a gale." He laughed, a reassuring sound.

Claudine's eyes rolled upward to meet his and then to look into the sky. "We ain't gwine thoo no gale, is we?"

Adam took her by the shoulders, forcing her to look fully at him. *There's nothing to fear, Claudine. Just do as I say and trust me."

She nodded, quaking and shivering under his fingers. He handed her over to Beau. "Fill her full of hot coffee and get her warmed up."

"Adam, I got a ship to get under way," Beau reminded him plaintively.

Claudine, clutching Beau's sleeve as the ship rolled, said, "Ah'm gwine be pow'ful sick."

Beau glanced at her in alarm, then shouted for the second mate. "Get her belowl See she's comfortable and has everythin' she needs."

Dulcie hadn't moved. She stood soaking wet, clutching her shawl around her shoulders. There was no trace of her customary independence as Adam led her to her quarters and unlocked her door.

"Thank you, Captain," she said meekly.

"Dulcie ..." he began, but said no more. He didn't know to what place his fierce little adversary had fled, but the Dulcie he faced this night was not she. He had never felt so closed off from anyone as he did from her now. She was behaving like a perfectly brought-up lady, soft spoken and correct. He hated it. Disturbed deep inside without understanding it, he murmured she was welcome and left her.

Dulcie sat down in her wet clothing, not caring that she felt clammy or that Claudine would be too seasick to help her change until the storm had passed. She had managed what she wanted to do. She had not made a fool of herself with him again. She had not lost her temper nor had she allowed herself to become lost in his blue eyes. She had been victorious. Why then, did she feel so miserably unhappy?

She greeted him the next morning. Her comments were light, polite, dealing only with the beauty of a sunny day after so much rain. She walked on airily as if she had planned to take a solitary stroll on deck. She met Beau, approaching her in search of Adam.

"Good mornin', Miss Moran," he said, smiling, sweeping his cap from his head to reveal a mass of brown hair. "I hope you found the Ullah's accommodations to your likin'. I made certain you had the finest cabin."

Dulcie smiled and assured him she had never slept better. She liked Beau and deliberately prolonged the conversation. His was a gentle, soothing manner that Dulcie found far more appealing in her present state of mind than she ordinarily would. He was so unlike Adam. He was slightly built, without trace of Adam's sheer physical power. His features were delicate. And what Beau thought and felt were plainly revealed in every line of his expressive face. He was certainly a man more suited to a civilized conversation and harmless flirtation than that great brute of a Captain Tremain, whose whole manner kept her wary and unsure of her control.

She answered his last question sweetly. "Why, thank you, Captain LeClerc. I'd love to take a tour of the ship." She allowed her eyelashes to cover her eyes, suggesting demure invitation. "I'll be waitin' in my calsin. Don't you take too long to attend to your duties, now."

Beau was whistling when he finally came up to Adam's

side. "Mornin' there, Captain, sir," he said cheerfully, his face split wide in a grin. Adam glowered at him. " 'Souse me, sir, but the storm's passed. What's eatin' you? Can't you see it's a damned beautiful day?"

Adam, unmoved by Beau's mood, said sternly, "You shouldn't take her on a tour of the ship."

"Why not? Nothin' I'd enjoy more—^well, almost nothin'. Think I'd pass up an opportunity like that with a girl who looks like Dulcie Moran?"

"You can't pick and choose certain passengers for special treatment. A captain has to be impartial. She's no different from Mrs. Bush or Mrs. Pease. Or are you planning to start a guided tour as part of the Ullah's service?"

Beau shook his head. "I thought Miss Moran was a special passenger. You sure as hell gave me that idea sometime."

"She's the same as any other and to be treated accordingly." Adam gazed at Beau, still feeling mean and out of sorts.

"I've never seen you act like this before," Beau said. "You gonna tell me what's behind it?"

"Since you insist—I like a tight ship. Captain. We don't chase skirts while on duty. Keep your mind where it belongs, Mister. We're at war. We're about to run a blockade. You've no time to think of anything else."

The expression on Beau's face was hurt, then angry. "As you wish, sir. As you are a passenger on this run, I suggest you remain in your cabin for your own protection in these dangerous waters."

Adam stared at Beau's set and belligerent face. It would have been funny another time, but this morning nothing seemed funny. "Damn it. Beau," he said plaintively, but Beau tossed him a sloppy salute and marched off. Adam slammed the butt of his hand down on the rail.

They were in the fo'c'sle checking the coverings on the lights and the hatches that might alert a Federal cruiser when Adam finally apologized.

Beau said agreeably, "Forget it. It doesn't matter, long's you're feelin' better. You gonna tell me what it was all about?"

Adam looked uncomfortably blank. "I don't know."

"Aw, c'mon, Adam. You know as well as I do. All you have to do is say you want her for yourself. That's gotta

be it. Why else would my walkin' Miss Dulcie over the ship cause—"

"You took her on a tour of the ship after I expressly ordered you not to?"

"Now, you get somethin' straight, Adam. I'm master on this run. You don't give me orders for anythin'! If you're wantin' Miss Dulcie for yourself, just say so. For the rest, just shut up and let me tend to my job." "Miss Moran has nothing to do with this." "Then I suggest you stop gettin' hot under the collar every time I go near her. Do I make myself clear, sir?"

Adam was silent for a while. "What are we arguing about. Beau?'*

"Damned if I know, but I'm sure as hell mad about somethin'."

"I'm sorry. Beau. It's my fault—" "Damned right it is!"

"Son of a bitch! You don't back off a minute, do you! I'm tryin' to apologize to you!"

"Keep it!" Beau shouted. "And get the hell off my bridge!"

The next several days did not improve the relationship between Beau and Adam nor Adam's temperamental state of mind. With equal fierceness he glared at both Dulcie and Beau. While Dulcie was coolly polite to him, she seemed to become radiantly alive under Beau's gentle companionship. And Beau hardly seemed to know he had a ship to run.